


The Dragon's Price

by doylefan22



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 20:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doylefan22/pseuds/doylefan22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana has often wondered why Aithusa saved her in the forest that day. Deep beneath the fortress of Ismere, she is about to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dragon's Price

**Author's Note:**

> Because the whole ‘Dragon Lord’ mythology became something else in my head and if you’re going to end up with a woman/dragon thing who happens to be a white dragon you REALLY can’t imagine anyone else playing her…

Aithusa’s trotted steps echoed through the confines of the ancient tunnels deep below the surface of Ismere. The dragon barely fit, the bony tips of her wings scraping along the walls to reveal the dark, nature-carved stone that’d been hidden for centuries beneath layers of ice. Morgana briefly wondered if that hurt her but Aithusa didn’t seem to care either way, hurrying along and only pausing to occasionally look back and call Morgana forward, an urgency in her soft cries. Morgana didn’t understand her haste; whatever was down here had clearly been locked away since time long forgotten and could wait a few moments more.

 

A tight turn jutted the tunnel sharply off to the left and Aithusa disappeared, vanishing into the increasing darkness. Despite herself, Morgana quickened her own pace, something warning her not to lose sight of the dragon in this place. Not that she truly feared. There was nothing left to fear anymore; all her fears had come to pass. She supposed that should be freeing but instead it only felt like a tighter cage.

 

Another sharp turn and she emerged into an unexpected cavern, snow drifting gently through a wide, jagged hole high in the rock above. It let in enough cold, grey light to illuminate the enormous carved dragon that stood in fierce guard over the larger entrance ahead. The rock beast jutted forward, as though crawling out from the wall itself, ready to attack those who would dare cross its threshold. Its mouth was set in the position of a perpetually challenging roar and its eyes were some kind of harsh blue stone that seemed to burn with desolate cold. The light from above caused the creature to cast grotesque shadows on the ground, the darkness of them seeming to crawl around Morgana’s feet, just daring her to cross them.

 

Everything was so silent here, eerie and foreboding. The silence of something that had been a secret for a very long time.

 

Morgana shivered but was still not afraid and when Aithusa returned to her side for a moment, gently nudging her on, she continued with renewed purpose.

 

The final chamber - and she could only assume it was the final one since there seemed to be no other entrance - was large, rough and partly in ruins. She had the instant impression of fallen grandeur, of carved columns that’d once stood so proud but were now faded and crumbled. The remnants of mosaics decorated the walls but so many of the small tiles were missing that it was almost impossible to tell what they’d once depicted. The greatest damage was at the back though. Part of the rear roof had collapsed and rocks had tumbled down, destroying whatever they struck. A thick layer of snow had invaded in their wake. If anyone above had found the hole they might have attempted to climb down but the route would have been treacherous and a fall deadly. Bones half buried at the base of the rocks attested to that.

 

Morgana ignored them though, following Aithusa instead. The dragon had led her down here, had wanted her to see something and Morgana trusted her with her life. There was something here she was meant to see. The reason Aithusa had saved her perhaps?

 

The dragon breathed flames onto the wall torches as they passed them and the they burnt impossible blue, giving off no heat at all. Any other time Morgana might have been more curious.

 

They stopped at the back of the room. The remnants of several statues were littered the floor there and Morgana studied them for a moment. Several had clearly been crushed by falling debris from the roof. One had apparently toppled into others and had knocked them to the ground where they’d smashed into a good dozen pieces each. Even those that were standing seemed to be in a terrible state of repair, missing limbs or so worn that their visage was unrecognisable. They were obviously more fragile than they looked.

 

Morgana frowned in mildly irritated curiosity. So what were they then? Why had she just spent a good hour hiking down here? She nudged a piece of rubble with her foot and it rolled, a partially ruined face looking up at her. There was nothing here but the remains of some kind of old temple it seemed. Was it meant to be hiding something? Was there something here that was still of use? It certainly didn’t look like it.

 

“What is this?” she demanded of Aithusa.

 

The dragon didn’t answer. She sat quite still on her haunches, staring a point ahead of them, deeper into the room.

 

There, just safely out of reach of the fallen rocks and hiding at the edge of the shadows, Morgana saw what caught her companion’s attention; a single intact statue. Intrigued, she picked her way across the debris for a better look, summoning a flame into her hand and holding her palm up to illuminate the find properly. It was a woman, her features sweet and youthful, an innocence to her presentation even though she was quite naked. Like the virgin maids of old in the fables Morgana been told as a child. Undoubtedly, it was a beautiful piece of very intricate carving; every hair, every delicate muscle and every line was perfectly replicated. The representation of the eyes was near exquisite, the finest work she’d ever seen. And yet it gave Morgana no answers or moment of clarity. Nor any idea why Aithusa seemed to believe it so important.

 

“Who was she?” Morgana asked, turning back.

 

She hadn’t really expected an answer and the dragon remained still and silent. Utterly focused.

Frustrated, Morgana’s first, rash instinct was to turn on her heels and go - no matter her debt to the creature she’d no time to waste on whatever sad remembrance this was - but something stilled her feet. It told her to use the patience she’d so bitterly learnt. Looking closer, she watched in silence as her steady breath ghosted over the statue in a mist. To her amazement, it was almost like it - no, she - shivered in response. An illusion of the cold perhaps but Morgana didn’t try to resist the instinct to reach out and touch the smooth stone surface in further exploration.

 

It was warm, and her fingertips pressed against the woman’s cheek as though they were supposed to fit there.

 

Morgana felt the unsummoned surge of magic course through her like a rush, sharp enough to steal her breath. She gasped, stumbling backward in shock, knocking several statue pieces with her feet and breathing unnaturally hard as she clutched her hand. It stung with a relentless ferocity.

 

Her gaze whipped to Aithusa but the dragon simply let out a small, reptilian coo.

 

A gasp louder than her own caught Morgana’s attention. It quickly rose, turning into a strangled cry that broke forth from vocal chords that’d been frozen in a moment of despair that was finally finished. So loud was the sound that Morgana covered her ears to protect them, watching as the impossible seemed to occur. Colour was spreading across the statue from where she’d touched it. Not the pink of fresh skin, but a pale grey-white colour and yet skin nonetheless. The revealed hair was white too, the stone crumbling to fine dust and falling away as though it not dare stain her. The woman didn’t move at all, even as stone cracked away and left tender young flesh behind. Only when it was complete did she collapse forward, as though she hadn’t the strength to support herself, grunting with pain as she landed with a hard thud on her hands and knees.

 

Morgana was entirely still with shock and Aithusa made a low, soothing sound in her throat. The woman meanwhile remained looking down, face hidden by a curtain of white hair. Her chest heaved with harsh breaths, strange marks marring the curve of her naked back.

 

Finally, with a mixture of curiosity and caution, Morgana crouched, reaching out to touch the woman’s shoulder. Despite the pallor of her skin, it was warm, just like the stone had been.

 

“Who are you?” Morgana breathed with a spark of wonderment that she hadn’t felt in many years. She’d seen many incredible things but this was something else. She sensed it in her very flesh.

 

The woman looked up, eyes wide and somewhat vacant. She looked at the dragon first and then to Morgana. Her eyes were the brightest blue.

 

“Aithusa,” she whispered.

 

It took Morgana a moment to realise that was supposed to be the answer to her question.

 

The young woman - Aithusa? - took advantage of her silent surprise and crawled into Morgana’s arms without invitation, curling up against her. She was shaking but not from cold.

 

Not knowing what else to do - what’d happened to this poor woman or who she really was - Morgana held her in return, stroking her hair and whispering old words of comfort. Just as Morgause had once done for her.


End file.
